#ill advised terrible ships

[thrillhoues]

Always surprise me that Hiram / Archie didn't blow up during the height of Riverdale. It's such a dumb crackship that coulda become huge

[teeny-tiny-revenge]

Came across this in a fic again and I have to vent for a moment here: Ed's hair isn't unclean or not taken care of. Ever. Even at his lowest, in the first two episodes of season two, his hair is light and blows with the wind, it's got perfect waves, there is zero grime in it. Impossible Birds Ed hair has clearly been fairly recently washed, combed out and conditioned. Ed canonically loves soap, and you don't get that hair without owning a comb or brush and frequently working oil into it. He's at sea! The air is salty! It'll dry out your hair, but Ed's hair doesn't ever look dried out. The day he decides to commit suicide he puts his hair up into a lovely bun, with whispy stands framing his face. I have no idea what some people are watching, because Ed taking meticulous care (and most likely also putting pride and love) into his hair is clear, on-screen canon.

Like, if you want to write about how he was neglecting himself in his depression Kraken era? There's plenty there for you on screen as well! He sobs all night, probably sleeps on the floor if he sleeps at all. He doesn't wear his knee brace. He drinks and does drugs (and admits to that being poison to Frenchie!). He's pushing everyone away, he's pushing himself hard into a role that made him passively suicidal even before the breakup depression. He doesn't watch his back during raids At All. There's so much self harm there to address. If you want to, it would probably be plausible to add him not bothering to properly care for any wounds he might obtain during a raid. But he clearly doesn't neglect bathing and hair care. They're probably the only elements of self-care he actually still does during this dark time!

Even rock bottom Ed doesn't neglect his hair. And that says things about him! It's also something I'd love to see actually addressed in fic (will probably write it myself one of these days...): Taking good care of his hair, putting on jewelry, doing his makeup, these are things that seem to bring Ed joy or relief in his darkest moments. Where's my fic about these quiet moments of self-care being a straw he clutches to when everything else is terrible?

I love a good bathing together/doing each other's hair fic. It's intimate and loving! And Stede and Ed are prime material to write a mutual caretaking and bonding over it couple! Ed canonically loves soap and taking care of his hair! And Stede brought an entire fucking bathtub on a ship, the wonderful madman. S1 Stede's hair is always carefully curled, and we know that's not its natural state (it's wavy but not in this manner) from seeing him in S2, away from his certainly plentiful bath and grooming equipment. Stede probably has an hour of daily hair routine! We know he has nice smelling, probably expensive soaps. Where's the fic where they share in this?

There's so much potential! They can show each other their favourite care products! Sometimes they'll work on each other and sometimes not at all! Ed's rich hair oils will make Stede's hair all sticky and weird! Ed will think it's hilarious and adorable, he'll try to ruffle his hair and make it stick up worse and Stede will pout! 🥺 He'll look like this, just with weird spiky hair! One ill-advised day they try putting Stede's curlers in Ed's hair and then they almost can't get them back out because Ed's hair is so long and has lots of natural wave and it'll cling to the curlers and it's awful (they laugh about it afterwards, once Ed has very carefully brushed his hair out again and it no longer pulls at his scalp).

Makeup was a thing done by men and women at the time, especially for aristocrats (as seen in Episode 5), so Stede will know his way around hoity toity makeup, meaning rouges and whites (contained lots of lead, yuck!). Meanwhile Ed does pirate costume makeup for Blackbeard endeavours, that's a whole different thing. And both of these are makeups they don't actually enjoy doing (Stede avoids heavy makeup for the party, and Ed's Kraken makeup is part of his whole Everything Is Awful And I'm Making Myself Feel That look). But we see Ed do nice makeup that seems to be him! On his supposed to be final day on Earth, he cleans away all the Kraken coal, he cleans up his cabin, he gets rid of drugs, booze, Izzy (everything that was harming him), he does up his hair really nice and in a style that's very much Not Blackbeard, and he puts on a gorgeous bit of eyeliner that really brings out his eyes. And now that they're safe and happy together, when Ed decides he wants to look pretty today, not only can Stede lose his marbles over the look, Ed can also show him how to make his own eyes pop like that. They can stand in front of their mirror together, giggling and trying not to poke anyone in the eye.

Like. This is a fancy bathroom items for fancy bathroom items couple. They will bond over their love of bubble baths and nice smelling soaps and soft oils for hair and skin! They will learn each other's routines and how to do them just right for them. Let Stede learn that Ed loves his baths scalding hot (Stede has to wait a while for it to cool before he joins him in the tub because he'll get all pink and lightheaded). Let Ed learn how to put in Stede's curlers for him if Stede wants his hair to look extra fluffy the next day. Let Ed learn to massage Stede's back and Stede learn to massage Ed's knee. There's so much potential for loving caretaking with this ship. The trope doesn't at all require Ed to not know or not want to take care of his hair and hygiene. Fuck's sake.

[sweet-s0rr0w]

You recs are lovely thank you so much for your effort

Oh, anon, thank you so much! I'm not sure if you're referring to my travel reclists (which badly need updating, wah) or because you saw my (ill advised and rapidly deleted) reply to the rude anon I got the other day who accused me of only reccing my friends' fics. The third ask like that I've had in two years, how delightful! But either way, thank you anon, what a lovely message and it made me feel all warm and appreciated <3

This whole 'you only rec your friends' stuff is especially funny to me because a lot of the fics I regularly rec are written by people I started chatting to because I specifically DMd them like a fangirl after loving something they wrote. So reccing my friends then becomes sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy, iyswim! So with exactly that in mind, and for you, lovely anon, here are a few 2023 recs of fics by friends who I made exactly like that AND the first of their fics that made me laugh, cry and jump into their DMs:

🌟Terrible People by @wolfpants and @getawayfox (E, 53k) I finished this a couple of days ago at ridiculous o'clock in the morning, and it was so worth the lost sleep! Cruise ship antics, very lush and vibrant, with a big travel component, truth or dare and some meddling (but endearing) friends!

😍First met Wolf because I loved The Hollow (E, 13k, Dremus)

🌟LA, Who Am I To Love You? by @epitomereally (E, 43k), an absolute favourite from this year's Wireless featuring impeccable California vibes, magical films, sex magic, and some brilliant OCs (eg. the unforgettable Eldritch Horror librarian).

😍First met El because I loved A Case of You (E, 97k)

🌟Rich Friend by @sorrybutblog (E, 19k), wealthy louche non-magic-using musician Dragon (Draco) brings Harry on tour. Banter and feelings and excellent smut ensue!

😍 First met iota because I loved Not Nineteen Forever (E, 6k)

🌟The Sun, Shining Above You by @oknowkiss (E, 15k), one of my faves from Dronarry fest, Drarry to Dronarry, with absolute chefskiss past one-night-stand Dron, plus a little bonus Charlie (who doesn't love bonus Charlie?!)

😍 First met Elaine because I loved any day now (E, 17k)

🌟Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses (M, chapter 3/9, currently 11k, WIP - but completed bar editing). Non-magical AU where Drarry are rivals competing for the final seat in the Oxford boat for the famous race against Cambridge. Brilliant slow-burn, and the characters feel really close to canon despite the obvious location difference. (and this one is the fic that had me DMing citrusses!)

Anyone else want to tell me about fics they read that were so good they couldn't help jumping into someone's DMs to make friends?

[wings-of-flying]

a summary of all that's happened so far in my fic where sea meets shore (link at the bottom) but i'm silly goofy about it (spoilers, ofc)

up to the current chapter (19)

part one: rosebud

prince chip's last search for his father is cut short by a storm. he falls into the water

jay arrives at whitethorne castle in rose kingdom and hears the prince is missing

chip wakes on the beach and meets the figure who saved him, but they're interrupted before they can be introduced

later in the day, chip returns to the beach and, with help from marshal john, brings a newly injured triton back to the castle

gillion paces the room he's been put in, regretting his decision to help, then chip enters with jay, who can speak primordial, allowing them to communicate

flashback to how gillion ended up in this mess, we see the deal with niklaus, who has the additional title of 'sea witch'. niklaus offers to help gill fulfil his prophecy and, after some convincing, gill agrees. niklaus' deal lets gill understand common and know where to go (whitethorne castle) at the cost of an unspecified favour

after rolin loffin reinstates himself as royal advisor, chip officially meets gillion and jay and they arrange to travel to whitethorne village

during this village, jay connects with john over their shared past connections to raft's navy and a letter from general lizzie lafayette shocks john

meanwhile, gillion and chip are dancing and getting closer despite the language barrier

the letter turns out to say that, though lizzie's journey to canella successfully converted the island to a rose ally, raft's navy swept in and killed a bunch of the crew. lizzie will be returning with the few survivors

and she does, with caspian and a surprise addition of a small boy named oliver. while chip has an issue with this, lizzie has more of an issue with the fact chip's allowed a ferin and a champion of the undersea into the castle

a tense dinner introduces gillion and jay to the new arrivals (minus ollie). gill and caspian hit it off, considering caspian can also speak primordial. jay, alternatively, has a glaring match with the general (she loses)

that evening, chip and jay connect over their shared losses of family, and they mourn drey ferin (who both were close with). chip doesn't think lizzie's disapproval of jay will last

a ball is arranged to celebrate lizzie's return. chip and julian joke about how terrible rose's situation is, but the party goes well. until, that is, roofus makes an ill advised comment and chip is sent into a spiral about all he's lost

this is interrupted when gillion arrives, accompanied by an announcement of all his titles. he meets with chip and shortly after jay arrives

chip disappears to speak with rolin, and the remaining two are approached by caspian and lizzie. caspian and gill continue to hit it off, then jay dances with lizzie and is threatened (lizzie thinks she's a spy)

shocked and distressed, jay runs to her room and writes a letter to kira (👀)

meanwhile, chip's arguing with rolin and then sees his sister is really drunk. he leaves her in the care of caspian then hangs out with gill. ooo feelings perhaps, but only a little

the next day, chip hangs out with ollie, then the whole group goes to see the newly built ships (just finished in time for the trip to edison)

jay feels awkward and left out, while gillion seems to get on with the group. caspian takes gill aside to tell him about a spell by finn tidestrider which allows gillion to magically be translated into common

gill excitedly runs off to tell chip, but overhears a conversation chip's having with rolin where it sounds like they're agreeing to keep gillion as leverage over the undersea

chip tells rolin off, but the damage is already done. gill is pissed

the next morning, when caspian and lizzie have left, chip finds gillion's coated the ballroom in ice. they duel over gill's honour, and this is only interrupted when jay breaks them apart

chip storms off to be healed by rudith

jay tells gillion to stay where he is and meet her in the library. he does not, instead trying to find chip and make amends (chip's set to leave for edison today). he gets distracted by a painting of the late king beau rose, and notices a silhouette in the background of the portrait with horns... john arrives and tells gill that chip's already left

jay meets with gillion, then packs her bags

chip stares angstily into the sea as his ship leaves

someone known only as 'the dagger' waits in his office, for an informant to arrive. the game begins

part two: falling petals

jay and gillion are hiding in a crate on chip's new unnamed ship. they're quickly discovered and chip is not happy, but they've made it to edison. john offhandedly reveals he knew jay was planning to run away

jay's very excited to be in edison with all its technology, and the gang are led in by guards sent from edison palace, including one named dominic

slight problem, jay and gillion are unexpected, so there aren't enough beds. this is resolved relatively quickly, but chip is suspicious of the butler, garrieth, who claims the king is 'unwell' and thus unable to meet them yet

jay calls gillion 'gill' for the first time. gill realises maybe there's more to his prophecy than preventing war in the oversea

after a nightmare about her sister, as well as chip and gill's duel, jay connects with dominic in the corridor

chip writes to rolin about the issue with the king and sneaks out to deliver it disguised as john. he overhears that raft soldiers have been spotted in edison, and that the king hasn't been meeting with anyone for ages

jay, gill and dominic go out to get gillion new clothes. gillion gets a vision from niklaus, showing the last time he met with edyn

rolin's reply to chip's letter is concerningly brief

jay goes out with dominic again a few days later, and they connect on a deeper level and kiss. dominic confesses wanting to run away, and asks her to accompany him. she's conflicted

to be continued...

[countrymusiclover]

30 - King in the North

Part 31

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

Tyrion, Jaime and I were standing with some of my sister's soldiers and her advisor watching a small ship coming up to shore.  Tyrion smiled at a man with thick black hair tied back in a bun. “The bastard of Winterfell.”

“The dwarf of Casterly Rock.” The strange man nodded his head to the dwarf. 

Tyrion extended his hand to him. “I believe we last saw each other atop the Wall.”

“You were pissing off the edge if I remember right. Picked up some scars along the road.” He shook his hand. 

Tyrion glanced between me and Jaime seeing Jon’s partner that had stepped foot on the island. “It's been a long road, but we're both still here. I'm Tyrion Lannister, this is my brother Jaime and his wife Vaella Targaryen.” 

“Davos Seaworth.” The elderly man introduced himself. 

The youngest Lannister remarked. “Ah, the Onion Knight. We fought on opposite sides at the Battle of Blackwater Bay.”

“Unluckily for me.” Davos said back to him. 

Jon sent a slight glare to my husband. “Your son killed my father.” 

“He did, yes.” Jaime nervously answered. 

Stepping forward in front of the two boys I introduced myself to the Northern man knowing the conversation could go even more tense the longer it went on between them. “Jon Snow, my name is Vaella Targaryen,  now Lannister.  I know you have Ill feelings towards my husband but I hope once you get to know him and I that you’re opinion will change.” Jon simply nodded his head at me with no verbal reply. 

Tyrion turned his head to the taller dark skin woman. “Missandei is the queen's most trusted advisor.”

“Welcome to Dragonstone. Our queen knows it is a long journey. She appreciates the efforts you have made on her behalf. If you wouldn't mind handing over your weapons.” Her advisor explained and our entire group made our way up the long steps in the direction of the Dragonstone castle. 

Tyrion and Jon were walking in front of me and Jaime giving me the opportunity to listen into their conversation. “Sansa? I hear she's alive and well.” 

“She is.”

He asked his other friend. “Does she miss me terribly? A sham marriage. And unconsummated.”

“I didn't ask.”

Poking Tyrion in the back with my index finger I couldn’t resist teasing him about the eldest Stark daughter. “You like her don’t you?” 

“She’s a wonderful girl who was tormented by horrible people.” My friend replied to my question. 

Jaime smirked down at me the second the words left my mouth. “You slept with her didn’t you?” 

“It was. Wasn't.” Tyrion glared back at me. “Darn you, Vae! Why would you ask me that?”

Unable to hold back my laughter, a huge grin graced my face. “Because you wouldn’t have asked about her if you didn’t care about her.” 

“Anyway... she's much smarter than she lets on.” Tyrion cleared his throat to change the conversation. 

Jon spoke up. “She's starting to let on.”

“At some point, I want to hear how a Night's Watch recruit became King in the North.” Tyrion eyed the taller man beside him. 

“As long as you tell me how a Lannister became Hand to Daenerys Targaryen.”

Tyrion dryly chuckled. “A long and bloody tale. To be honest, I was drunk for most of it.”

Jon glanced back at me still trying to figure me out. “How exactly have you been alive all this time?  We were told everyone in the Targaryen line had been wiped out.” 

Tucking hair behind my ear. “It’s a long story but let’s just say I owe my life to this one.” Looping my arm through Jaime’s I laid my head on his shoulder while we kept walking behind them. 

“My bannermen think I'm a fool for coming here.” 

The dwarf concealed his friend. “Of course they do. If I was your Hand, I would have advised against it. General rule of thumb-- Stark men don't fare well when they travel south.”

“True... but I'm not a Stark.” Hearing a dragon shrieking above our heads causing Jon and Davos to drop to the ground seeing a huge smile grace my face watching one of my sisters dragons fly up to the top of the castle. 

Tyrion offered his hand helping Jon up from the stone ground escorting him inside the castle with the rest of us following in toe. “I'd say you get used to them... but you never really do.”

MISSANDEI introduces my sister while Jaime and I stood in the corner of the room by her throne just watching. “You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains.”

“This is Jon Snow. He's King in the North.” Ser Davos gave him a much shorter introduction. 

Daenerys nods to him. “Thank you for traveling so far, my lord. I hope the seas weren't too rough.”

“The winds were kind, Your Grace.”

Davos corrected her. “Apologies, I have a Flea Bottom accent, I know, but Jon Snow is King in the North, Your Grace.”

“Your Grace, this is Ser Davos Seaworth.” Tyrion noticed my sisters confused expression. 

“Forgive me, Ser Davos. I never did receive a formal education, but I could have sworn I read the last King in the North was Torrhen Stark, who bent the knee to my ancestor, Aegon Targaryen. In exchange for his life and the lives of the Northmen, Torrhen Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. Or do I have my facts wrong?”

Davos shrugged. “I wasn't there, Your Grace.”

“No, of course not. But still, an oath is an oath. And perpetuity means-- what does perpetuity mean, Lord Tyrion?” She eyes my friend. 

“Forever.” Tyrion replied. 

She focused back on Jon Snow. “So I assume, my lord...you're here to bend the knee.” 

“I am not.” Jon uttered where the color in my face went almost white as a ghost and Jaime sucked in a nervous breath.  We knew better than him not to defy her, hell the only reason we weren’t still fighting was because his arrival was announced. 

“Oh. Well, that is unfortunate. You've traveled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?” She put her hands together in her lap. 

Jon reminded her the horrible things our father had done to his family. “Break faith? Your father burned my grandfather alive. He burned my uncle alive. He would have burned the Seven Kingdoms--” 

“My father... was an evil man. On behalf of House Targaryen...I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family. And I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father.” She sent the man of the North a sympathetic look. “Our two houses were allies for centuries, and those were the best centuries the Seven Kingdoms have ever known. Centuries of peace and prosperity with a Targaryen sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. I am the last Targaryen, Jon Snow. Honor the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name you Warden of the North. Together, we will save this country from those who would destroy it.”

Jon looks at his boots briefly. “You're right. You're not guilty of your father's crimes. And I'm not beholden to my ancestor's vows.”

“Then why are you here?” She asked him. 

Jon replied to her. “Because I need your help, and you need mine.”

“Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?  And did you see the Dothraki, all of whom have sworn to kill for me? But still, I need your help?” 

“Not to defeat Cersei. You could storm King's Landing tomorrow and the city would fall. Hell, we almost took it and we didn't even have dragons.” Davos entered their conversation again. 

“Almost.” Tyrion pointed out. 

Jon takes a few steps closer to her throne. “But you haven't stormed King's Landing. Why not? The only reason I can see is you don't want to kill thousands of innocent people. It's the fastest way to win the war, but you won't do it, which means, at the very least, you're better than Cersei.”

“Still, that doesn't explain why I need your help.” Dany raised a brow at him and I wasn’t sure where he was going with his statements either. 

Jon boldly insulted her where I bit my lip a little harshly drawing some blood afraid for his safety. “Because right now, you and I and Cersei and everyone else, we're children playing at a game, screaming that the rules aren't fair.”

“You told me you liked this man.” Dany spared a glance to her Hand. 

Tyrion didn’t remove his gaze from Jon. “ I do.”

“In the time since he's met me, he's refused to call me queen, he's refused to bow, and now he's calling me a child.” She raised her voice annoyed by the bastard before her. 

Tyrion stuck up for his friend. “I believe he's calling all of us children. Figure of speech.”

“Your Grace, everyone you know will die before winter's over if we don't defeat the enemy to the north.” 

She hated her teeth. “As far as I can see, you are the enemy to the north.”

“I am not your enemy. The dead are the enemy.” Jon takes a step closer to her. 

Daenerys gave him a baffled look. “The dead? Is that another figure of speech?”

“The Army of the Dead is on the march.  The white walkers are real.  The night king is real and we have to stop them before everyone is Westeros is killed because of them.”

Jaime finally spoke back to the man of the North. “The White Walkers aren’t real.  They’re just stories we tell children to make sure they behave or at least stay away from the Wall.” 

“I understand why you wouldn’t believe it.  I didn’t believe it until I faced them myself.” Jon shifted his gaze looking for my opinion. “Queen Vaella, what do you think about what I’m telling you?” 

My sister snapped. “She’s not a Queen.” 

“The black crown sitting on her head makes me think she is.  She is also your older sister is she not.  She shares your Taragaryn blood.” Jon points out not sensing the tension between my sister and I yet I had so I reached up removing the crown, letting it drop from my hand as I strided out of the room without another word. 

“I shouldn’t be here, King Jon.  Forgive me, I must go check on my children.” 

Jaime barely remained still for a second running after me sensing something had upset me. “Vaella!” 

[gabessquishytum]

Dreamling coded /It Happened One Night/ -- https://m.imdb.com/title/tt0025316/plotsummary/?ref_=tt_ov_pl

Hob is the louche reporter; Dream the runaway heir(ess); Alex is ill-suited/ill-advised husband. Shenanigans and gross motels, one bed, and falling in love along the way.

Omg I love this movie!! Had to remind myself of some of the plot intricacies but!!! YES!!!!

Dream is the prissy princess heir to his family name, and he's on the run to meet his fiance who his family hate - he's SOMEHOW ended up being blackmailed by AND sharing a motel room with Hob Gadling, a reporter with no moral compass and a terrible sense of humour. HE has demanded the rights to Dream’s story in exchange for not shipping Dream right back to his family.

They had to pretend to be married in order to get the room! But don't worry, Hob has divided it in half with a blanket hung over a rope. But Dream wants to leave - he doesn't want to go to sleep and start again in the morning. Hob insists it's too late for him to be travelling now. In any case, Hob is going to bed. He'll make sure that Dream gets to Alex but now it's time to sleep.

Well, Dream isn't moving! And that's fine with Hob. He'll just have to get undressed in front of Dream. First his jacket, then his shoes, suspenders, shirt....... Dream is a chaste little virgin and at this point, he gives up and rushes to his side of the room.

But suddenly he's not thinking about Alex any more. He's thinking about Hob on the other side of the blanket, his strong arms and hairy chest.

And all Hob can think about is how a smart, gorgeous, delicious man like Dream deserves a man who will actually fight for him instead of waiting for him to do the fighting...

...a few weeks and MANY shenanigans later, Hob and Dream spend their first night as a real married couple in that very same room. Only this time, there's no blanket. And Dream isn't a chaste lil virgin any more!

[mytheoristavenue]

OP Usopp x Sick!Reader - What would you say?

Summary: Usopp, wondering why he hadn't seen you all day, finds you very ill in the girls' quarters. After taking you to the sickbay to see Chopper, he refuses to leaver your side.

Warnings: A lot of fluff, a bit of angst, sick comfort.

You groaned, brows knit and chest heaving as you rolled over to face the door of the girls' bedroom. Pulling the covers over your shoulder and against your face, you couldn't help but huff. Why was it so goddamned hot in here? Loosening the tuck of your blanket, you were immediately stung by freezing air, opting to just suffer under the heat of your quilt, than the agonizing needles of the air. What the hell was going on?

Elsewhere, Usopp sat at the dining table eating breakfast with a few other crew members, who lounged as they usually did on a sunny Sunday morning. "Hey, Robin," he asked, breaking the tranquil quiet that seemed to blanket the entire ship. She looked up from the novel she was reading, glancing up at him, and using the break of focus as an excuse to take a sip of tea. "Have you seen (Y/N) today? She never sleeps this late." He wondered, noting that they hadn't docked in weeks, and that they weren't even close to land, so she couldn't have gone on an errand without him knowing.

"I'm not sure she feels well today." Robin answer with a kind smile. "She was still asleep when I got up, and when I offered to bring her anything she declined." Usopp thought on her answer for a moment before she continued. "I touched her forehead and she seemed warmer than usual, so I asked Sanji to brew her some tea that might help a fever come down."

"That's really sweet of you," the sniper remarked, silently worried over his friend's well being. As if on cue, the chef walked over to the table, setting down and small tray holding a cup of steaming tea, and a jammed biscuit on a saucer.

"Here it is now, thank you Sanji," the ravenette nodded to the blonde appreciatively.

"Hey, wait," Usopp interjected as Sanji began to exit the kitchen, tray in hand. "I'll take it to her. I was gonna go check on her anyways." The chef quirked a brow at his friend's sudden willingness to help, but ultimately passed the it over.

"Just make sure she drinks that tea, I hand picked all the herbs myself and I don't want my time going to waste." Sanji advised, turning back to what he was doing before the request. "And you better not drop that, either."

Usopp simply rolled his eyes at his uptightness, descending the hall toward the sleeping quarters. When he arrived at the door of the girls' room, the carefully held the tray in one hand and knocked with the other, wanting to make sure no one else was there. When he got no response, he cautiously twisted the knob and opened the door to reveal you in the first bunk he found, curled up in a pitiful little ball.

"(Y/N), you okay?" he asked inching towards you timidly. "I brought you something from Sanji." You failed to respond, simply panting from under your blanket. Setting the tray down on another bunk, he slowly made his way to your bedside, laying the back of his hand on your forehead. "Shit, you are hot." he remarked, a bit surprised that what Robin had said earlier was true.

"'M fine...go away." you finally mumbled, rolling away from him to face the wall. Usopp sat beside you on the bed, his hand once again against your head, to gauge just how bad your fever was.

"Maybe you should go see Chopper." he suggested, brows knit with concern. "You seem pretty sick." You growled in annoyance, forcing yourself to sit up, and eventually dragging yourself out of bed, standing on the terribly cold floor. He watched you as you walked over to your dresser, picking out your clothes for the day with a worried expression. "I think you should lay back down,"

"I've got too much to do today to just lay in bed all day. I told you I'm...I'm fi...ne..." With that, you instantly hit the floor, fainting in the middle of the room. Usopp bolted up to catch you, but was unfortunately not able to get to you in time.

"(Y/N)! Are you okay? Please wake up!" he panicked, shaking you gently as he cradled you in his lap. When you came to seconds later, you looking up at him, confused and delirious.

"Usopp...what are you doing in here, this is the girls' room..." His face paled as he struggled to find an answer, befuddled that you'd forgotten that he was even there.

"I've gotta get you to Chopper, he'll know what to do." he concluded, trying his best to calm himself down, before scooping you up into his arms and carrying you out of them room. On the way to the sick bay, he noticed you fading in and out of consciousness, your head occasionally slumping to fall limp off the side of his forearm. Once he reached the doctor's office, he immediately burst into the room.

"There's something wrong with (Y/N)!" he shouted to the small doctor, who instructed him to lay you down in one of the beds that lined the west wall.

-----

Some time later, your eyes fluttered open to see that your surroundings were different from how you'd left them. Almost instantly, you were hit with an absolutely splitting headache, surely a side effect of the pressure in your sinuses, and the time unconscious certainly couldn't have helped.

"Oh, (Y/N), I'm so glad you're awake." a shrill voice voice called, accompanied by cloven footsteps making their way over. "You really had me worried." You rolled over to find the Straw Hats' doctor strolling to your bedside, a clipboard in hand.

"Chopper...?" you verbally noted, deducing that if he was here, you must be in the infirmary. "How'd I get here?" you asked, sitting up a bit and looking around.

"Please don't try to get up," he advised, gently pushing you back down. "Usopp said you fainted in your room, and he carried you here." You blushed a bit at the thought, more embarrassed than anything else. You probably looked like such a mess. "Don't worry, though, you haven't been out very long."

"How long exactly?" you wondered, tilting your head a bit, only to correct it, finding that the action made your migraine worsen.

"Almost four hours."

"Four hours?!" you panicked, jumping out of bed, looking all around for your shoes, only to remember you probably hadn't worn any to begin with.

"Please calm down!" Chopper stressed, running to the door to try and block you from it, and pressing his hooves to your shins, in an effort to force you back into bed with his little brute strength. "You're still sick, you shouldn't be out of bed!" Just as you reached the door, you were able to step over him and the corners of your vision began to darken. The last thing you felt was the doctor tugging backward on your left leg, before both buckled under your weight.

Luckily for you, Usopp opened the door just in time for you to slump forward into his arms. He thanked his lucky stars he was able to catch you this time, now maybe he wouldn't feel so bad for the last. Your eyes had hardly even shut before they fluttered open again, gazing up hazily at the sniper for the second time today. "Usoppppp," Chopper whined. "Tell her to stay in bed, she won't listen to me!"

The man's eyes softened exponentially when they shifted back to your sleepy face and he sighed with a kind smile. "You really should rest," he said lightly, helping you back over to your bed and getting you laid down. The small reindeer huffed with crossed arms as he followed the two of you, taking his chart into his hooves again.

"You might as well get comfortable," he pouted, still upset at your lack of care for his professional opinion. "I'm gonna have to keep you overnight, possibly longer."

This perked your interest and you snapped your head to him as he began to read off your chart. "Wait, all night? Why, it's just a little fever, right?" your fretted. "Right?"

"I'm afraid it's not that simple." he sighed, flipping through the pages on his clip board. "(Y/N), have you ever eaten a Devil Fruit before?"

Your eyes widened at the question. Of course you hadn't, you were just a normal person! You didn't have any powers! "No, I think I'd know if I had, Chopper." you rolled your eyes. "What could possibly make you think that?"

"I didn't understand it at first, but your symptoms all align with sea water poisoning, but that could only be the case if you were a Devil Fruit user." He explained, offering for you to look at some of his notes. "Is it possible that you have been in contact with and sea water lately?"

"No, but it wouldn't matter if I had," you answered flatly. "I'm not a Devil Fruit user." Chopper sighed with frustration, rubbing his head and walking away to sit down and review his notes.

"I'm sorry, maybe I made a mistake, I haven't been feeling very good either." he confessed with little energy.

Usopp sat and thought for a moment, looking around for a clue as to what could help solve the mystery. He eventually took to looking you up and down. Maybe you'd been bitten by something and they'd just glossed over it? That's when he noticed how swollen your feet looked. He curiously stood up and studied your soles, which didn't go unnoticed. "Hey, what are you looking at my feet for, you creep?!" you shrieked, pulling your legs up to hug them and hiding your feet.

He simply tilted his head in confusion. "What are those on the bottom of your feet?" He asked causing you to blush with embarrassment. This caught Chopper's attention, who wandered over to see what the fuss was about.

"What's wrong with my feet, huh?" you defended, still hiding them and refusing when the doctor asked to see. After a bit more prodding, you hesitantly, and humiliatingly let the two study your soles for any potential clues.

"They're almost like the pads on cats' paws," Usopp remarked, poking one, causing you to squirm.

"You've had these all your life?" Chopper asked, finally ending his observation and walking to your bedside.

"I wasn't born with them, no, but I've had them since I was little," you answered, still pouting over the whole ordeal. "They just kind of showed up one day. You mean you guys don't have them?"

That's when the pieces fell together for the reindeer. "That's why your steps don't make noise when you walk!" he exclaimed, finally solving the puzzle. "You must have eaten the Shh Shh fruit as a child! It grants the power of stealth, but you've never needed to use it, so you never knew you had it!"

"But I don't ever remember eating a special fruit?" you asked, puzzled by this new revelation.

"Some fruits can look really mundane, or even disguise themselves!" he explain, retrieving a large book and setting it onto your lap, open to a very specific page. "And look! It says here that it was last seen on the island you grew up on!"

You were having a hard time wrapping your head around what he was telling you. You had powers and you never even knew? That seems a little far fetched. "That still doesn't explain why I feel so bad." You reminded him. Chopper thought for a moment before his eyes widened and locked onto the necklace you were wearing.

"When did you find that stone?" he asked, pointing to the pendent.

"Last time we docked, why?" you cocked a brow, holding it close to your chest, afraid he might confiscate it.

"But when did you start wearing it around your neck?" he pressed.

"I just put it on the chord last night, and then I wore it to bed. Again, why?" You were beginning to get irritated with his interrogation. "Chopper, just tell me what's going on."

"That's a seastone." he said so matter of factly. "It has to be. It has the same effect as sea water on Devil Fruit users. That explains why I've been feeling so tired since you came in. You have to take it off."

You hesitated, having grown attached to rock, unwilling to just throw it away, it was special to you. With a bit more persuasion, you reluctantly took it off, dropping it into Usopp's waiting hand, who then pocketed it to keep it from falling into unexpecting possession.

Instant you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. The entire room felt lighter, and your throat ached a bit less. "Now that that's out of the way, we can get you better!" The doctor chirped, already feeling much better himself.

-----

Nearly an hour had passed since your diagnosis with seastone poisoning, and you were still in bed, only this time with a tray of delicious food, curtesy of Sanji, who'd forgiven you for wasting his time by not drinking his tea. Usopp had also left for a bit to take the rock to his workshop, thinking that the shavings from of it might make for a useful bullet for his Kabuto. Chopper had taken this time to fashion a regiment of treatment for your sickness, which consisted of rest, fluids, hearty foods, and a special cocktail of medicines which he made himself. He also recommended you still stay with him until you were better so he could monitor you.

Now that you were fed and hydrated, and had had the first dose of your medicine, all that was left was to rest. A part of you was nervous about spending the night alone in the sick bay. You had gotten so used to sleeping with others in the room through bunking with the girls that you had forgotten what true silence sounded like.

Chopper had long since retired to his sleeping area, a small closet conjoined to the infirmary, and you laid wide awake, staring at the wooden ceiling, wondering when you'd finally fall asleep. A small creak startled you and you shot up to find the door slowly creeping ajar, before you began to make out a long nosed figure peaking in. "You can come in, Usopp."

He accepted your offer, quietly shutting the door behind him, as if he could disturb any other other patients. Tip-toeing, he made his way over to you and sat down at the foot of your bed. "How do you feel?" he asked softly glancing over to you.

"Better." you answered blandly. A beat of silence passed between the two of you before you spoke up again. "I just wanted to say...thank you for bringing me here. You probably saved my life."

Blood rushed to his face as he smiled, a part of him wanting to boisterously accept your thanks, shrugging it off as what any hero would do, but for whatever reason, it didn't feel right in this case. "You're welcome, I was pretty worried about you, ya know?" You nodded in response. This felt so awkward, Usopp could hardly stand it. "Well, it's getting late and you're probably tired so-"

"I can't sleep." You corrected him, looking more passed him than at him. You were incredibly tired, but your anxieties wouldn't allow you and rest.

"Oh," he stiffened at your sudden melancholy, before softening with pity. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I just don't want to be alone." you muttered somberly, pulling your blanket higher over your legs.

"Well," he cleared his throat, looking to the ceiling with a slight blush. "M-Maybe I can sleep with you tonight?" His eyes widened when he realized his poor choice of words and he immediately back tracked. "N-Not like with you, with you, of course! Like in the next bed, I mean. Or in the farthest one if that's what you want, or not at all or-"

"Would you please?" The tenderness and desperation in your voice was almost enough to startle him. "Please, I just won't want to be alone."

His gaze softened as he cast it over you. "S-sure." He confirmed, standing to set himself up in the adjacent bed. As he sat down, untying his hair and kicking out of his shoes, you took a second to take him in. You rarely got to see him in anything casual, let alone pajamas. His hair was wild and free, yet well maintained, forming a spherical mass of coils that spilled from a shallow widow's peak. He lacked any of his common accessories, only dressed in a baggy tan t-shirt and sweatpants. He looked so comfortable as he massaged his fingers into his scalp, releasing some of the residual tension from his ponytail.

Without noticing your admiration, he easily slid beneath the quilt on his bed, snuggling down onto his side, facing you with a kind smile. "Goodnight, (Y/N)." he cooed, letting his eyes fall heavy.

"Usopp?" you whispered guiltily. He had just tried to go to sleep and you were already waking him. He popped one eye open with a snicker, only to have his expression fall into frozen shock when he found you, scooted as far away as you could, holding your blanket up, inviting him into your bed.

"Y-You want me to..." he stammered, failing to find appropriate words for the situation. He didn't want to admit to having the wrong idea.

"Can you could sleep with me?" you asked timidly, unknowingly batting your lashes. "It's just that...my bunk is a little smaller than this so the bed feels so big."

"I could take up some space. I-If that'll help you, I mean." he answered, already sitting up. Before long, he was in your bed, laying on his back, stiff as a board. You wanted so badly to lay your head against his chest. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. "Are you sure this is okay? 't's a little cramped." he admitted with a nervous laugh. Your cheeks burned from embarrassment with the possibility that you were making him uncoverable.

"I'm sorry, I just want to be close to you." you confessed, the urge to cry welling up in your chest, though you suppressed it.

"Really...?" he asked, in awe that someone like you wanted to be near someone like him so badly. You nodded bashfully, before rolling over, already too humiliated to deal with his need for validation. A moment later, you gasped, feeling his strong arms encase you in a loving cage, pressing your back to his chest. "Is this okay?"

You nodded again, feeling your heart swell in your chest. "That feels really nice, actually." you sighed, shimmying your shoulders to be even closer to him. "If I told you I liked you right now, would you leave?"

"No," he confirmed, nuzzling his forehead against the back of your scalp. "If I told you that I think you're the most dazzling woman I've ever met, would you still want me here?"

"I would," you answered, bringing your hands to cover your face, as it was glowing far too bright for your own good. "If you said that, would you mean it?"

"Every word. I wish I could tell you that you're the most inspirational person in my life, that just looking at you're pretty smile makes me want to be the best man I can be." he confessed, his finger tips gently tracing up your arm to find your hand and interlacing with yours. "But I'm worried you'll think I'm a creep."

"I wouldn't think that." you mumbled, pecking a kiss onto the back of his hand. "Would you think I was a creep if I told you that I've wanted to kiss you since the day we met?"

"No," Usopp grinned form behind you, gently breaking away from you to pull you back to face him. "Would you think I was a creep if I told you I wanted to kiss you right now?" You breathlessly shook your head, looking into his eyes as both his hands came up to cup your cheeks, sweetly connecting his lips to yours. Though the contact was short lived, the meaning behind it spoke volumes. He held you like this for a moment, his thumbs just caressing your cheeks lovingly.

"If I told you I loved you, what would you say?" you finally asked, entirely entranced in him.

"I'd tell you it's about time."

[saphirered]

Cat and Songbird

Request// Masquerade (16) for Caleb but make it spicy. 

For some reason the tumblr tech demons decided that answering this request was too much to ask so we’ll do it like this I guess. Fair warning, this to date I think is the most spicy I’ve written (which is still pretty mild I think) so let me know if you like it and want to see more! 😘

The air weighs heavy with responsibilities, the gazes of strangers and familiar faces alike. King Bertrand Dwendal’s annual Masquerade is an event when invited it is ill advised to refuse attendance. Loyalties might be questioned and when the king’s loyalists already keep an eye on one, it is best to just oblige. Unlike most of his associates Caleb cannot feign a venture on a ship far away where this invite would not reach him. Given he’d rather not give any of the monsters and enablers that linger in the shadows a reason to be rid of him, he shall keep his best manners and attend along with the other Academy invitees. Lucky for him he does not have to suffer through this night alone. Letting loose has never been his specialty, not when it lacks copious amounts of drowned regrets and terrible decision making but it does not take a genius to figure out this is not the environment to do so. It’s not some coping mechanism that allows him to sit this through.

It takes but one glance as the beauty in his arms, the one who follows every step of the string quartet sets out through the rhythms and beats. You, of course had earned your invitation and had made your own statement. A mask of hazel, orange and brown feathers allude to a songbird. Your garments are the colours of bronze, golds and oranges akin to flames. It is as much a political statement as it is a tease to him. You made these choices very deliberately and you look absolutely divine. You’ve caught the gaze of many attendees and were given even more compliments. Caleb hears the whispers among the crowd even now. They are right. The mere sight of you, your lips curling up in satisfaction, it sparks a fire in his chest. 

“Something amiss?” You ask, the undertone in your voice all too innocent. 

“How many hearts will you be breaking tonight?” Caleb retorts with a hint of intrigue and amusement. Your smile only feeds the flames and you close a bit of the distance the dance required, not quite inappropriately but definitely noticeable. 

“As many as it takes? I haven’t quite decided yet.” You muse as you spin under Caleb’s arm. This time your back ends against his chest. You can feel his breath on your shoulder and when you turn your head to face him, you stare right into his eyes. Not even a feline mask can hide those blues, if anything they pop more. He’s breathless. Of course you always thought him handsome but there’s something now, something that places him in this setting, in this castle surrounded by these people that makes the entire room pale in comparison. Caleb has been prone to fading into the background when he wants to, and sometimes you would join him there, sometimes he would join you in the spotlight but now, he may have caught onto the whispers about you, but you have noticed something of your own too. 

The courtiers whisper, talk and gossip; The cat’s caught the precious songbird. The latest transmutation teacher at the Academy certainly chooses his company well. It’s a surprise he managed to get your attention. The two of you look a little more familiar with each other than one ought to be in a formal setting, is there some prior connection? You catch onto them all. Each and every one of them makes you want to put on a show. Give them something to gossip about but you won’t drag Caleb into that mess. For now you’ll have to be satisfied with this display. Your lips are so close to his and you resist the urge to lean in and close the gap like you normally would have done. Instead the dance continues and you spin once more, instantly missing the warmth of his body close to yours, the memories of all the times where you would feel his warmth against your skin, his hands roaming and yours too. The desire for that touch grows but you would not be where you are today if you were so easily thwarted by a simple desire to connect to another so intimately. 

“What is the use of these masks if everyone knows who you are anyway?” You complain and that comment extracts a rare laugh from the wizard. 

“Because no matter where you go, your radiance draws the attention of even the most unperceptive of people. Anyone would be foolish not to recognise it.” Caleb speaks as if it is a scientific fact proven time and time again. To him it is. Anyone would be foolish not to see your beauty, inside and out. 

“You’ve been polishing your social skills. Flattery will get you everywhere in this company.” You tease which in reply leads to Caleb squeezing your side. Were you less composed you might have jumped or squealed but none but him notice your response, as you offer him a playful glare. 

“Is that why you’ve denied anyone who’s asked for a dance but me?” The look you give twists his insides in ways only you could. It is provocative. It is teasing. It is uniquely you and you know exactly what you’re doing to him. 

“I’ve denied them because they make incredibly dull company. However if you must know my true reasoning, you keep me on my best behaviour.” 

“How so?”

“From the moment I’ve walked in here I’ve wanted to cause a scene, meddle in the affairs of this court the way they do in others, in mine. If they are to gossip, then I want it to be under my terms, not theirs. If they want a show, I’d give them a show. But you keep at bay the reckless, selfish desires by simply being here, with me because you distract me from all that’s around. Fools may whisper compliments and inappropriate desires but they fall on deaf ears when my mind is occupied with your presence.” You click your tongue as another dance ends. You take a bow and someone approaches to cut in. 

“No thank you.” You say to the stranger before they can even ask, and place your hand in Caleb’s pulling him along and away from the dance floor. The sea of people parts for you just enough to weave through to a more secluded area of the ballroom. 

“You would be perfectly content causing a scandal out of spite?” You shrug and Caleb gives you an amused look. He’s not surprised with your antics. You’ve got a thing for theatrics but they are always well calculated, and anticipated. You wield your words like he wields his magic and it is the most beautiful thing to him. Seeing you at work, to command a room full of people to your attention, to be so powerful to need not the spells of masters but simply radiate that presence you have so naturally, he admires it, he worships it. But he too acknowledges it comes with a pressure he may not fully comprehend and he can accept that because he sees the effects on you. 

“Is that what you wish? Give them something to gossip about?” Caleb adds as you lean your back against the pillar behind you. You look at him in all seriousness. 

“Nothing would satisfy me more.” Caleb takes a step closer to you. His fingers brush along yours as you clasp them in front of you. You brush your’s back against his until you clasp one of his hands between yours, running just the faintest touch along his palm. Shivers run down his spine when your touch is like a breath; so light and so faint yet so present. His lips part, and a sigh escapes. His eyes bore into yours. “Though, I can think of one more satisfying thing.” 

A light tug on his hand enclosed in yours invites him closer and he does not deny you. Whatever semi-appropriate distance you previously kept is gone now. You stand toe to toe, your body between Caleb and your back against the cool stone of the pillar, though there’s no tension, no, hesitation or anything other than invitation. You’re holding back. You’re giving him the choice to step away, or choose the next course of action as he becomes more and more aware of the eye’s you’re catching and the new whispers that continue spreading. He chooses to ignore them because when you stare into his eyes, when you silently ask him; what does he want, he knows exactly what he wants. You wanted to give these people something to talk about, he will give them something to talk about. 

His breath fans your face, ever so lightly as he leans closer. He checks your eyes for any hesitation but you assure as he finds none. You push the final bit, and place your lips against his, once, twice, three times and the kiss deepens. The hand clasped between yours you lace your fingers with while you allow your other to wrap around his neck pulling him closer against you. His other hand finds the small of your back as he helps you close that distance and arch your back. Now you really hear the whispers spread but they become but background noise when his tongue presses against your lips and you oblige the request with enthusiasm. You don’t know if it’s minutes or hours as time becomes irrelevant but eventually you pull apart. 

“I’ve grown tired of this ‘esteemed’ company. What you say we find a more quiet place?” You suggest and with the look you get from Caleb, you don’t wait for a reply when you grab his hand once more and pull him along. You know the layout of this castle well enough to find somewhere as secluded as can be in this place. You can feel the eyes of the guests on you and you couldn’t care less. Neither could Caleb in this moment because his attention is entirely on you. 

Up the stairs, down the corridors where few would wander without destination you find an alcove overlooking the city. The stars are the only direct light offered but it’s just enough to see. You run your fingers along the closures of Caleb’s coat, undoing them one by one and pushing the garment off his shoulders. He makes no effort to stop you nor does he have any intentions to but he has to because somehow some part of his conscious mind, although completely caught up in your presence, considers the repercussions of what choices you’re making now. 

“Are you sure?” He dances his fingers along the string of your mask, carefully untying the ribbon until it comes undone and he lifts the feathers and filigree from your gorgeous features. You look at him through your lashes, almost pleadingly. 

“Does it look like I have any doubts?” He sets your mask aside and you wrap your arms around his neck, undoing the fastenings of his as you trace the design while slowly removing it. You can see the dusting of red across his cheeks but there’s not a single ounce of doubt written across his face. You know where he stands. You know where you stand. His concern for your wellbeing and potentially, status after this; when you’ve publicly ran off with someone of his standings, his reputation despite all social judgements, his concern is adorable. You kiss his cheek, and along his jawline and down his neck, finding the right spots you know all too well. 

“I mean about here, right now.” His breath catches as you gaze just the spot and he feels your lips curling against his skin before you pull back, clasp his face between your hands and lean close to him. His hands fall to your waist, stroking along your sides. 

“If anyone walks in, they can look the other way if it bothers them.” You don’t need to tell him twice as his fingers come around to deal with the closures of your outer garment. You rapidly help him alleviate you from these constrictive layers, and once you are, you wrap your legs around his hips. Caleb catches you, allowing you to lean your back against the wall, as his lips now trail down your neck and shoulder, extracting moan after moan. His fingers press into your thighs and behind massaging the supple skin that reveals more and more by your undergarments lifting but you care little. 

“You are far too overdressed.” You comment between a gasp. You swear your neck and shoulders will be covered in love bites for days to come but you care little. They’ll be a reminder of your little adventure at the castle. Perhaps they’ll further encourage the gossipers too. They’ll know exactly who gave them to you, and you will show them off with pride. 

“Then do something about it.” Is all the reply you get between kisses. You roll your eyes and pull yourself out of his grasp. You place your hands on Caleb’s chest and push him against the opposite wall. Unceremoniously you undo the buttons of his vest, letting your hands trail up and down his chest, leaving trails of fire as you go. 

You untuck his shirt from the waistband of his trousers and he helps you pull it over his head, discarding the garment to the side. This time you bring your lips to his neck, over his shoulder and begin to trail kisses down his chest, paying attention to spots you know to be sensitive or responsive to your touch until his knees feel weak and Caleb is thankful for the wall behind him. You lower yourself as your kisses follow the trail left by your fingertips until they find his the laces of his trousers and pull at the string. With little effort they come undone and you look up at him. You look gorgeous, not because of your attire, or lack thereof, not because of the position you’re in. You look beautiful because when he looks at you he sees confidence, he sees control. You deserve to be admired. You deserve to be worshipped and that’s exactly what he intends to do, once you’ll let him.

“Are you sure?” You ask almost teasingly because you already know the answer to that question. Caleb’s already given you an answer and when he traces a thumb over your cheek, cups your face so lovingly you give him a wicked grin. It’s as if he was not aware how painfully constricting his trousers had become until you release him from those confines. He did not truly grasp the extend of his longing for you tonight until you wrap your lips around him and suddenly he can breathe again. Upon that breath he whispers your name and with a renewed vigour you fulfil that desire for more. You will do it with love and care and admiration every step of the way. 

[dreadfutures]

Happy dappy Friday! How about for Anders and anyone from the hidden injury list, 'Walk then. Come on, walk towards me. I bet you can’t even take a step’

Thank you ocean! ❤️

for @dadrunkwriting

-:-:-

"Anders, let me go."

"Go *where*, Hawke? You're bleeding everywhere--"

Garrett could hear the sounds of battle nearby: shouts and grunts, Merrill's magic cracking like thunder and bouncing off the buildings all around them. Garrett could not be sure if he had been dragged away from the fray, or if the throng of combat had been moved away from him. He had been concussed, he knew. But that was Carver shouting for Merrill to look out, and Garrett's one thought was that if something were to go wrong--if that blow hit its mark--if either one of them became injured, Anders was here needlessly tending to him instead.

"They might need us," Garrett insisted. "Come on."

"Walk, then." Anders crossed his arms, looking completely unconcerned with the sounds of fighting that echoed back to them from down the street. "Come on, walk towards me. I bet you can't even take a step."

Garrett, propped against a haphazard mountain of shipping crates, glared at him. "Have a step, you glowy bastard," he muttered.

He advanced upon Anders, and passed him by. His path was weaving and drunken but he was able to stay upright, and that alone gave him the confidence and strength to hurry up and rejoin the fight.

Behind him, Anders laughed mirthlessly. "Really, Hawke. You're worse than the addicts I deal with," he said. "This will kill you quicker, I'm sure."

"Hope so," Garrett shot back. With a twirl of his staff he pulled the Veil taught and tied it in a knot, dragging the greater share of this ill-advised gang into a writhing, helpless pack on the ground.

"Oh, Hawke!" Merrill cried. "You look terrible! I bet you didn't let Anders touch you at all, did you?"

"Course not," Carver said, heaving his great sword over his shoulder and advancing upon the helpless marauders. "He thinks the giant purple egg growing on his face makes him look rugged." He gave Garrett an exasperated look. "Fen's not gonna be the one to nurse you back to health, if that's what you're hoping. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's just gonna give you another black eye for refusing healing."

"Do you think that will slow him down for a moment?" Anders wondered aloud. "Maybe I'll pay Fenris to knock him around a bit on my behalf."

"My eardrums weren't ruptured when I got punched in the face," Garrett growled. "I can hear your dastardly plans."

"We outnumber you, just a little," Merrill said brightly. "I think we stand a fair chance!"

Garrett's strength wavered, and he loosened his hold on the Veil as Carver began to despatch the goons on the ground. He was familiar enough with these beatings to know the limits of his mana, and he withdrew his magic just before he could deplete it fully. With a sigh, he turned to face Merrill.

"So did they," he said blithely.

"Yes, but Carver knows where you're ticklish," Merrill pointed out. She leaned closer to Anders and whispered loudly behind her hand. "It's his knees, just so you know."

Garrett put his face in his hands. "Carver."

"Garrett," Carver repeated in the same overwrought voice. "I didn't tell her about the moles, don't worry. That's a family secret."

"What moles?" Anders asked seriously. "Sounds like I should take a look."

Garrett couldn't help but laugh. He slung an arm around Anders' shoulders and allowed the mage to support some of his weight, and he smiled as he watched Carver peck Merrill on the forehead, grins all around.

"You all can poke and prod me all you want when we get back to the Hanged Man," he promised. "*If* we make it back, I should say."

[hvndredbattles]

repost and rate your muse's traits out of 10 in each category !

RICHIE ARDEN.

COMPASSION. 4/10*. Richie's general capacity for empathy is relatively low. Compassion is something he still has to make a very conscious effort for, and he doesn't often know what to do for it. I think some of the clearest moments of compassion you'll see from him are things he will do for the dying.

He does have his own little ways of showing he cares, in his own way. Making sure his boys have eaten. Relative leniency on approving leave, where he can. Insisting on at least one inspection of injuries himself, even if they were seen to by someone else. (And I don't write him in a romantic relationship or choose to ship him by default, but he does learn other forms of compassion and connection and expressing care as the relationship deepens.)

BITTERNESS. 4/10. Less bitter and more a bleak realist. The bitterness kicks in after his Arc 2, when his government betrays him and he loses his team. But it's not pervasive in his life in the sense that it colors everything? Bitter about losing his boys, and bitter about being stabbed in the back, but that does not mean that he expects as much from everyone else now.

HAPPINESS. 5/10. Honestly just a very neutral guy. Neither prone to great joy nor great sorrow.

POLITENESS. 5/10. He is aware of when it would be wise to hold his tongue, and aware of social convention and manners. It's something of a tossup as to whether or not he'll actually acknowledge and act on said awareness. He's got enough sense not to talk back to a superior, but if there's no respect there, he will absolutely be brusque and intentionally ignore things like pleasantries.

I want to say there's an element of "doesn't care enough to pry" in some of what reads as his politeness. For instance, he won't ask about scars in part because that's Not Something You Do, and in part because it's not behavior he wants to encourage (doesn't want someone thinking that's something he'll tolerate directed his way), but also he just. Doesn't care enough about the "story" to ask? And then once he gets to know someone and develops a relationship of some form with them, there's a respect for privacy he won't broach.

MORALITY. 5/10. His work, by default, has him often operating in the grey. But even before that, he never felt particularly compelled by morality. It's more a set of rules he operates by because it is easier to do so. He has lines he won't cross because of his internal moral compass, of course. But I would not call him a particularly moral man.

PRIDE. 7/10. Prideful, but I would argue in some odd ways. Not easily humiliated, even when that is solely, specifically, viciously the goal. But also not a braggart. He knows he's good at what he does. He's confident in the knowledge that he's good at what he does. But you also won't hear him willy-nilly discussing his work or his successes.

He would maybe rather die than beg, given specifically those two options. It might depend on the day.

HONESTY. 6/10. Honest with an edge, sometimes. But also inclined toward the conversational redirect to avoid answering questions or addressing topics he'd rather not. More honest professionally than personally.

BRAVERY. 10/10. Occupational hazard, bravery. Being brave and running toward the injured and the violence and destruction tend to go hand-in-hand.

RECKLESSNESS. 5/10. You would think, perhaps, that bravery and recklessness go hand-in-hand? And yet. Has he made decisions against his better judgement? Gone headfirst back into a situation with terrible odds to finish a mission, or rescue one of his own? Yes. However, one does not get to a point of leading teams by lacking good judgment and the wisdom of when to say no to ill-advised courses of action.

AMBITION. 7/10. Less personal ambition and more professional ambition and drive. The ambition of Getting Shit Done.

LOYALTY. 10/10. Loyal to a fault. Loyal to people, first, but his loyalty to his country is nothing to scoff at either. The man has literally been tortured and held onto highly classified information. He would kill for, and die for, his loyalties.

LOVE. 3/10. Love is another one of those things Richie does not have much capacity for. Not that he would not say he loves people— he does love his family, and in rare circumstances, could even come to love a romantic partner. But it is not love in the way he hears other people describe. He simply doesn't connect with people on that level. It's part of why it's so easy for him to leave his old life behind at the end of his Arc 2, going into Arc 3. Almost an, out-of-sight, out-of-mind.

(And yet, I want it on record that the two ships he does have? Love on Richie looks a lot like obsession. Love becomes a "I am not leaving first. You will have to tell me you're done with me" thing.)

SENSE OF FAMILY. 4/10*. In line with his difficulty with emotional attachments (love and the like), his sense of family is not particularly strong. He has one, certainly, and they're on good terms. But he feels no obligation to them, and rarely feels a particular pull toward them that is distinguishable from any pull he feels toward anyone else he has more than a passing relationship with. That being said, his niece is, without a doubt, the exception to the rule. He showers her with gifts, has left much of his estate to her in his will, and would do anything for her.

ATTRACTIVENESS. 8/10. I'd call him ruggedly handsome. The scars are an allure for some, and a warning off for others.

AGILITY. 8/10. He has to be, for his occupation. It's something he puts a concentrated effort into maintaining. But a fighter's agility, not a dancer or acrobat's agility. Strikes fast strikes true, strikes hard.

SEX DRIVE. 7/10. Not something he acts on so regularly after he leaves his twenties, but still a higher-than-average sex drive. Higher when he has a regular sexual partner. Lower when the work wears him thin.

[mamamittens]

A Squeaky Call (Pt. 5)

Part 5 of Call and Response

First | Previous

Warnings: None

Word count: 978

Usually, Touko would be the one to come to her for a request on behalf of other Whitebeard pirates to clean areas they didn’t want to. What he was getting in return for mediating, she wasn’t entirely sure, but she did receive a lot of little gifts and treats in return. And it broke up her otherwise boring days in a way she was familiar with at this point. Her fellow marines also pitched in occasionally when they happened to see what she was doing—though usually just with tasks that were too much for her. Like dusting the library’s upper shelves and moving heavy furniture so they could mop.

Everything felt just like it was before but… in a bigger ship, really. And Captain Hektor wasn’t the one giving orders anymore.

At night, Touko or one of the others would come in and read books, helping her read along as they realized she could sort of read. But not very well. She often had trouble with longer words and rhymes. How their underground activities were still relatively hidden, she wasn’t entirely sure. Surely at least the commanders have noticed that their members weren’t actually doing their own chores by now?

Sometimes though, there would be a task that she’d be given ‘after hours’. Usually cleaning larger areas that people frequent more often or just time consuming. Like, for example, doing laundry.

Apparently, the chore of laundry on a ship of predominantly men was quite unwanted. Who knew.

Though like other chores, she wasn’t going to be doing this alone either. Doctor Crusoe was also helping, on account of the machines being just too tall for her to use on her own without a stepping stool.

The old doctor laughed as they loaded up the washers in the laundry room. So long as they didn’t mix up loads through the process, the pirates would identify their own clothes and take them in the morning in the baskets. A bit chaotic, but if they couldn’t be bothered to do their own laundry, she supposed it would have to do.

“Alright, lassie, hand me the washin’ powder and we can start up this line.” Doctor Crusoe advised, gesturing to the far wall with a shelf on it with supplies. She noticed a thin trail of familiar black liquid along the edge. Small, wriggling things hiding behind the bottles of bleach with hysterical squeals. She paused, reaching out to poke one as it frantically wedged itself behind the shelf against the wall, it’s friends following suit. Their tiny voices moving along to the darkened doorway.

She still had no idea what the hell those things were. But they were just about everywhere she went. In small, hidden spaces and cervices. Curled in the shadows of squeaky doors, wobbly ladders, and damaged rails. Clinging to ill-maintained weapons and expired food. And they avoided her specifically with all the strength in their tiny bodies. Clumping together furiously as they ran away.

Suspicious, she looked at the bottles of bleach. Everywhere the little buggers were, something was wrong. Not usually terrible, but certainly inconvenient. Stepping on her tiptoes, she reached for the bottles. Doctor Crusoe walked up behind her and leaned in.

“Wha’ is it, lassie?”

Unable to explain that she was weirded out by squirming black worms wriggling all over the bottles, she frowned, her nose twitching.

“Ah… the smell… smells like salt water?” She whispered, looking up at Doctor Crusoe. He hummed, grabbing the bottles and opening them, wafting the smell under his nose before grinning.

“Good nose, lass. The bleach seems ta have expired! Better toss the bottles before some poor sap tries ta clean wit’ em!” Doctor Crusoe cackled.

Her nose wrinkled as she wondered what it was about this ship that brought such strange creatures aboard. No one else seems to even notice their presence—and they certainly didn’t care about anyone besides her.

Like little misfortunes littered the ship. Not noteworthy in the slightest outside of the inconvenience they bring.

Suddenly, she felt a shudder go down her back.

Like she was being watched.

She looked around the laundry room as Doctor Crusoe prepped the loads cheerfully, measuring out cups of detergent. Rows of washers and dryers waiting for loads of laundry. Her eyes swept over them slowly, wondering why she felt eyes on her. Everyone on the ship was either sleeping, patrolling, or working in their office. No one else was going to be doing laundry.

Then her eyes looked at the darkened doorway.

Perfectly round disks of dead, white eyes stared at her from the dark. At a height just shorter than herself, the shadows seemed to writhe and tremble. Almost like a trick of the light, she couldn’t tell if it was crouching down or just that short. But it stared at her without blinking. Challengingly. A low, hissing rattle echoing just as the washers started up.

“What’cha lookin’ at, girly pop?” she jumped, looking instinctively at Doctor Crusoe before glancing back at the now empty doorway.

“…nothing.” She responded faintly. Unsettled at the idea that they could get bigger… and less afraid of her. “…Just thinking about how it doesn’t feel that different from before. You know, before that black sea king wrecked The Horizon.”

Doctor Crusoe smiled, ruffling her hair.

“Aye, not tha’ different, is it? Life at sea can be quite mundane between spots ah trouble…” Doctor Crusoe frowned. “Ya must have been quite rattled though, lass. Tha’ sea king was white as snow… scarred ta boot.”

She looked up at the doctor in confusion.

She remembered it quite well despite the chaos.

The sea king that rampaged at their ship was black as night.

As black as the strange creatures she’d been seeing all over the Moby Dick.

She looked out at the dark hallway again, her heart trembling in dread.

[priscilla9993]

Killian Jones: 3, 4, 11 , 22

😘

Oooh, thanks anon! Wasn't expecting any asks so this was a joy to recieve. ✨

3. Scars or painful spots

Killian has tons of jagged scars across his back from his time in servitude, from him talking back despite it doing him no good. Of course, there has to be the scar of where his left wrist ends. I don't think it'd be the most painful place to touch, but his phantom pains and nerve endings would make it ill advised. There's a difference between him touching it and others, only those he trusts. Killian has a facial scar from who knows where and the rest of his limbs are peppered with smaller scars from where he's gotten grazed or stabbed by swords, knives, daggers, and gunshots over his pirating years. I think his shoulders hurt the most from bearing the weight of his leather trench coat in pouring rain, at times, his arms from lifting wine/rum barrels and women that he brings onto his ship for a nightcap.

4. Best places to kiss on their body

I don't know how to answer this, but let's go for it! His shoulders and chest, very gentle caress. If he were to be kissed on his neck, he'd yell or growl in frustration about how he doesn't like it, but he doesn't stop the kisser, so he must love it. His stomach is great to kiss if you want him to be tickled. His hand if you're feeling courageous and want to turn the tables on him. This will probably make him more interested in whoever tried that.

11. Bad or petty habits

Killian is the king of pettiness. If one day he woke up early from a hangover to a noisy crew, he's for sure to spend the next few days getting up early just to bang pots and pans to ruin their moods for disturbing his sleep first. Much like his disdain for authority, a strain to his freedom, he despises hypocrites. If there's one thing he has in common with the Crocodile, it's that people should keep their word. So when someone goes against their bargain, he'll make sure they regret it, even if it's something as small as hiding someone's clothes for a few hours. A bad habit he has is drinking at any point of time when he's not sailing or manning his crew, for it must be "nighttime somewhere".

22. People who’ve influenced them greatly

If we were talking about Wish Killian, I could say so much. But for Killian Jones himself, I'd say Milah and Rumplestiltskin, giving him more purposeful reasons in life, one of love and one of revenge. I could go on forever about Rumple, so I'd rather not. Although we can't be for sure how much time Milah had to get close to Hook, she impacted him so much that he swore to avenge her, thought he could never love again, and got a tattoo of her name. We can't forget Pan, the manipulative and playful child who never grew up. Killian probably learned a lot of techniques and did terrible things under him.

Liam Jones, his older brother that was too arrogant to not cut himself with dreamshade and too trusting of their King. For all that his brother was in the end, to Killian, Liam was family, the one who didn't abandon him when he made dreadful mistakes or got drunk, who protected him even when he was just a rebellious youth. Liam made him believe in honor and who he upheld every bit of respect to. I'd also mention that in addition to him, his mother was a beacon of childhood trust and safety, how 'she tried to stay for as long as she could'.

David Nolan aka Prince Charming made a huge impact on him. I think through him, Killian gained a friendship that had no takebacks and advice on life. He regained what it meant to be honorable and how the right things weren't always going to be easy or a clear path, but it was going to be okay. They could talk to each other about so much, both serious and jokingly.

Lastly, when he thought he'd never find love again, he met Emma Swan. He saw a lot of similarities in her and eventually wanted to be the one she let her walls down for. I think she brought out from him the good and vulnerable parts that he thought he'd lost or swept away, having lost trust in humanity. Killian was an 'every man for himself' kind of survivor until he wasn't, seeing the things she valued and how he could just talk to her without being entirely joking. They brought out the best in each other and I'm glad they got their happy ending, along with a family they never imagined would come into their lives.

[companionwolf]

Fictober 2022 fill #2

Prompt: 8. ‘“Do you remember?’

Fandom: XCOM / Pokemon Mystery Dungeon

Rating: Gen

CWs/TWs: none

In the cold dark of the crashed alien ship, in the midst of an empty bridge, three Pokemon sit in a huddle around a cracked, old Luminous Orb. In the dim light the Mawile, who has a small robotic companion floating around her shoulder, doles out bowls of berries and apple slices to her Noivern and Lycanroc companions. She and the Noivern set to eating; the Lycanroc sits and broods. 

“You have to eat, Central,” says the Mawlie to him. 

He does not answer, just snuffs half heartedly at the bowl. 

“We have to go check on the humans, and it’s a long trek,” she continues. “You need to eat.”

The Lycanroc sighs and relents. 

The Noivern swallows, speaks. “Are you sure the two of you are enough?”

The Mawile frowns. “Do you remember, Tygan? We’ve been doing these runs for years-- we’ll be fine.” She glances at her robot. “You’ll be able to see our progress every step of the way.”

“It just seems ill advised every time,” he says, biting into a Pecha Berry.

“We’ll find people on the way,” Central says through a mouthful of food. “Well, Pokemon. Maybe they’ll even want to come back here, join us, help us clean this place up and get it running finally-- I know Shen would like that.”

The Mawile nods. 

“Still,” the Lycanroc continues, “even if it’s just us, there’s only a few dungeons to pass through to get to the vault. We’ve got supplies, and if we run out we can…” He trails off. “I don’t like going into the Pokemon towns but at least they’re not a city center.”

“Why do we not make our own community?” Tygan asks. 

“Need people for that,” says Central. “Supplies. Room to build. Pokemon with arms.” He glances down at his paws with an angry look. “I’m sure those kinds of havens exist, just…not here.”

“I think it’s the dungeon proximity, among other things,” Shen says. “Most Pokemon don’t know how to or don’t want to traverse dungeons, and exploration teams are scarce these days. I think there’s a few guilds left, some operating as resistance hubs even, but…” She shrugs. “Between them, the zombies in the old human cities, and the aliens, there’s little reason to leave town.”

“Still can’t believe it’s come to this,” Central says, ears folding back against his head. “Still keep thinking I’ll wake up back in that shitty bunk at our old HQ and find all this alien stuff was a terrible nightmare.” He lets out a deep sigh. “But I know that won’t happen.”

“We should get to sleep soon,” Shen says. “Better to get started on the trek early.”

Central hums, finishing his bowl of fruit before letting Shen take it. She gathers up all the bowls and the bag of supplies beside her and heads to make her way down to the engineering wing of the ship. Tygan taps the Luminous Orb, plunging them into darkness as he tucks it under a wing.

“You sure you want to sleep in the living quarters alone?” Shen asks Central. She always asks.

“Yeah,” he says. He always says this.

“Well, you know where to find me if you need me,” she answers, and splits away from him and Tygan. The two Pokemon walk to the living quarters together; Tygan standing in the doorway as Central flops down into a bunk adjacent to the floor. 

“I’ll have the maps out for you and Dr. Shen tomorrow before you leave,” he says. “I also did some foraging and found some seeds that you might want to bring along.” He shuffles a little foot to foot, looking as if he wants to say something else, but does not.

“Thanks, Tygan.”

“Sleep well.” 

The Noivern leaves Central to lie in the dark, staring into space.

When he dreams, the Lycanroc dreams of a different base, an underground facility left by humans long ago, with a big central room and a spinning holographic globe. 

From what they recovered from the ancient computers, the place was made in case of extraterrestrial contact-- a gathering place for special forces, for the world to respond. It never got used, until after the humans all died. Central, when he’s more intoxicated, thinks it’s funny in a sad way. What would the humans think of Pokemon in their place, dealing with something they never got to see? 

In any case, the base was nice. It was dark, and mostly metal like the ship is, but it was home. They were a guild, taking the name of that organization from the files -- XCOM. The explored dungeons and helped other Pokemon and for a long while, things were good. 

Then the aliens came. 

Central  dreams of days of first contact, fighting for the first time not dungeon rot infected Pokemon, but beings from another world. Beings that killed his teammates as brutally as infected did. Of the reports of strange readings in the old abandoned cities. Bringing back bodies to base, aliens and Pokemon, the research and engineering teams try to understand the equipment they received both from the field and the XCOM base. Of the inventions, of the coming together. 

Pokemon and exploration teams across the continents came to the base, offering their help, offering supplies, offering intel. He’d never seen anything like it before in all his time. 

He dreams of a Pokemon he can’t remember, but who led them all. A commander he grew close to, who confided in him-- I am a human. Then, Central didn’t really believe it. He, like many others, believed humans to be fairy tales. Sure, there were tall tales of past teams led by heroes that had been humans, but those were ancient and unconfirmable.

In any case, it was good. They weren’t winning, but the aliens seemed almost uninterested in them. They seemed more drawn to building shining city centers, sending their troops out into the wilderness, looking for--

At the time, they didn’t know. 

When XCOM found out, it was almost too late. Central responded to the call to defend the nearby cryogenic vaults, despite not knowing what was in them. He was one of the few survivors of that fight, and it cost them later-- the aliens overran the base, forcing the Pokemon to scatter across the world and go on the run.

He dreams of the aliens killing his Commander, right in front of him-- one of their big stout troops with the green plasma guns shooting them through the chest. 

He dreams of running, and running, of wanted posters as the aliens gained comradery with the general Pokemon populace and spun up lies about XCOM. As the years went on, Pokemon forgot about the world wide alliances, about a world without ADVENT’s guiding hand. 

He dreams, and when he wakes, he is exhausted, but the vaults require maintenance, so he gets to his paws and staggers out to the closed ramp where Tygan and Shen wait. Shen has their pack on her, and her robot at her side. Tygan hands her a couple of maps and a small bag as he approaches them. “Morning,” he says, voice grumbly from sleep,

“Good morning, Central,” says Tygan.

“Hey, Central,” says Shen. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he answers.

”Good,” she says. She turns to Tygan. “Keep the ship safe, okay?” He nods as he presses the button to lower the ramp. Sirens blare and lights whirl as it goes down, and Tygan gives them a little wave when Central looks back from the bottom of it. 

They walk a few paces ahead into the dusty bottom of the canyon in which the ship lays, the ramp raising back up behind them. Shen stops to show Central the map, although at this point both of them know the routes and the maps are just a safety measure.

First they go up the side of the canyon, and then through a dungeon they’ve named “Lonely Fields'”, then through the local Pokemon town, toward the mountains. From there, they need to reach the mountains and go through a dungeon in the mountain pass -- aptly just called “Mountain Pass” -- and enter a cave. The cave itself is a dungeon, and at the end of it, begins the tunnel to the vault.

“Ok,” Central says, “let’s get going.” SHen tucks the maps away, checks her bag of supplies one more time, and then the two of them are off, together toward the high, gray mountains. 

[etoilebleu]

@thorrncrowned for cassian from maria !

1852.

the eight year old had made it this far. boarded a ship as a secret stowaway across the small ocean that separated her from a brighter future. so her mother had advised her before she succumbed to her illness.

leaving maria to fend for herself.

the final image of her mother haunted her. knuckles white as they gripped her tiny hands, gasping for air to say her father's full name and where to find him, the look of everlasting love in her tired gaze.

the child was practically skin and bones when the ship made it ashore, maria making her way off as soon as she could without being seen.

the next week she spent continuing to steal food to gain her strength somewhat back and find out more details about where her father might be. it was an exhausting process. a few close calls were already made, running from guards left and right any time she was spotted.

they considered a dirty, starving and homeless thing a pest. not wanting anything to do with her or to help her. so it was only natural she act as feral as she could to scare them given the opportunity.

one evening it seemed like all her patience was going to pay off. a grand party was happening, giving her enough bodies to weave through to get as close as she could to him.

lord cassian langston. they had the same eyes. heart beat wildly in her chest, mia gripping the pillar she hid behind, getting as close as she could.

until she felt a hand snatch at her back. gasping, eyes swiveled up to an angry guard, sneering at her. " finally got you now! thought you could pick pocket in here, aye? "

maria screamed bloody murder in frustration, writhing around in his grip wildly until her feet swung far back enough to kick him in the crotch.

she was dropped immediately, the girl making a run for it, bee-lining for the preoccupied lord, a few people gasping in terror at the sight.

she had to talk to him. she came all this way.

his unsuspecting child slammed into his side, dirty fingers gripping and clawing at his expensive coat with wide eyes, breathing heavily in fear, gaze swiveling back to the oncoming danger.

a few more guards showed up in retaliation, shouting and running to circle cassian and pull the thief off of him.

" I'm terribly sorry, lord langston. please forgive the intrusion. you'll be back to your festivities in just a moment. " yet they were struggling to pull her off.

maria screamed once more, teeth gritted and growling while she kicked at them. " PAPA PLEEEEAAAAAASE ! " she cried out desperately, tears forming in her big brown eyes.

one grunted, grabbing the back of her neck in an attempt to steady her from doing anymore damage. " oh please! anything to get out of her crimes. she's a good for nothing thief! you say the word and we'll try her for her crimes. ASSULT on top of it. "

they finally pulled her off, it taking three officers to hold an arm and her legs, maria bending all around in an attempt to bite them.

" I'm NOT A THIEF ! I came by boat to meet my PAPA. " beginning to tremble while the tears fell. resembling the child she actually was now and not a wild beast.

" please. my mama is dead. you are all I have now. " but what reason did he have to believe her?

maria began to sob uncontrollably, crumpling in the officers gasp, terrified of the thought.

[marnz]

Pirate AU!!!!!! (Or pirate + mermaid??) (Or just mermaid??)

Derek is obviously a pirate. His family was a respected naval family and Derek was a naval officer turned privateer, but then the Argents, who run a trading company, came to power at court and when Derek got into a sticky situation, they (read: Kate on orders from Gerard) convinced the King to strip Derek of royal protection. Unknown to everyone: Derek and Kate were old friends! They grew up together! And then the Hales died and Derek was left alone with only the navy, becoming increasingly reckless fearless, and he was useless to Gerard

Stiles is a sailor who thinks Derek is a terrible Captain because he simply Does Not Know what he's doing as a pirate, as someone outside of the law, and also resents Derek for doing Whatever He Did since Stiles' Dad is in the navy. Now Stiles is a fucking criminal, his Dad is going to be so disappointed, etc

Scott, also a sailor, is not quite as worried about the legal implications and is planning to skip town because he is carrying on an ill advised love affair with Allison Argent, wants to eventually work in the trading company or become a merchant and have 2.5 kids etc. He and Stiles are besties.

But then Derek and a naval ship run by Commander Whitmore get into a fight and it's bad, a lot of people die and more are injured, including Scott. They make it out of there but barely, and the ship limps into the nearest safe port. Stiles somehow finds himself filling in as First Mate, which is a terrible idea because he's supposed to repeat Derek's orders to the crew and all of Derek's orders....are bad!

Stiles and Derek end up spending a lot of time together in the Captain's quarters late at night, arguing strategizing

They all want a new life but they do not have the money to get it, so one day Stiles and Derek come up with a plan to go after the largest Argent trading ship in the fleet, the one Gerard commands himself. It means sailing halfway across the world but Derek knows the Argent sailing routes and his ship is quick and nimble. However late at night Stiles can't help wondering if Derek is actually prioritizing the well fare of the crew or if he's just in this for revenge 👀

[ask-sad-ghost-piett]

Posthumous Admiral's Log - Entry 37

We have found Needa, Motti and Jerjerrod. We have also found the Star Destroyers that previously disappeared from our afterlife fleet after getting mysteriously sucked into the Vortex. The circumstances surrounding the missing Star Destroyer are very odd indeed. I suspect Rebel Scum mischief at play.

We first located Motti and Jerjerrod in a campsite of their own doing very private activities that really should not be done in an outdoor environment. I have now seen things that will forever be ingrained in my memory for the remainder of my immortal existence. Max says I’m being melodramatic. I adamantly disagree. That is all I shall say on the matter.

We then wasted a great deal of time trying to convince Motti and Jerjerrod to help us find Needa.

“Does it really matter where he is?” Motti asked. “We’ll all end up back in the same place eventually once we rot out here, and it isn’t as if anyone actually likes Needa.”

“I like Needa,” I reminded him.

“He’s so boring,” Motti said.

“He’s a nice man, Motti,” I said. “And I happen to enjoy the company of nice men.”

“That’s very polite of you to say, Firmus,” said Jerjerrod. “It’s delightful to see you’re starting to learn some manners, but you don’t have to go through the pretense. It isn’t as if we’d tell him that you dislike him. I’m sure he already knows.”

“But I don’t dislike him, Tiaan,” I insisted. “He’s a good friend, and – ill-advised exorcisms notwithstanding – a fine officer as well, not that either of you karking idiots would know a kriffing thing about that.”

At this point, Max interjected:

“Whatever your feelings about Needa, we would be amiss to abandon him out in this strange territory. We must locate him for the greater good of Imperial brotherhood.”

After much cajoling, Motti and Jerjerrod agreed to go along. It appears Needa actually wandered quite far. We nearly gave up looking for him when we came across a very odd cavern system which led us to a very impractical, sinister-looking lift constructed of a floating rock platform. For the record, I did not want to go anywhere near such a contraption, but Max insisted that it would be alright. After all, we’re already dead.

The sinister lift turned out to be terribly slow. Whoever built the system was an idiot. They ought to have focused more on efficiency over aesthetics. Thank the stars we had the option of floating down instead. There are some perks to being a ghost in the living world. Not many, but there are some.

It turns out Needa was sitting at the bottom of the dark ravine waiting for us this entire time. Surprisingly, he was not in any distress.

“I knew you’d come for me eventually being the loyal chaps that you are,” he said so earnestly I felt dreadful we hadn’t gone looking for him sooner. “So, I wasn’t worried.”

I hope Jerjerrod and Motti feel appropriately terrible for speaking ill of this poor, innocent man.

“I’ve found something rather odd down here, actually,” Needa said. “Follow me. I’ll show you.”

He then led us to what appears to be an underground frozen lake with hundreds of Star Destroyers frozen beneath it. I’m not sure why someone would freeze a Star Destroyer, much less so many of them. I recognize each of the ships under my command and can confirm that several of these belong to the Imperial afterlife fleet. I’m very cross about this theft and also baffled as to how it happened.

Needa has a theory that when he attempted to exorcise Vader, he effectively made a portal to the living realm instead because ghosts are not meant to perform exorcisms on other ghosts. This is, of course, exactly what I told him to begin with. Now, it appears someone has been using the Vortex to pilfer our Star Destroyers and encase them in ice for some absurd reason.

We plan to investigate the matter further. At the very least, it’ll give us something to do while we’re here which might be a while. None of us are showing any signs of decomposition yet. Perhaps we ought to find our way to a tropical planet to speed things up. I always did want to visit Scarif.

Regarding the stolen Star Destroyers, I am blaming the Rebel Alliance’s Resistance Scum children for now. By COMPNOR default, everything is the Rebel Alliance’s fault until proven otherwise. I don’t know what good this would do for them, but I suspect they probably have some kind of disorderly insurgent plans involving our poor Star Destroyers. Perhaps this is why they had that base on the frozen wasteland of Hoth. They were already plotting their scheme, and now they’ve passed it onto the new generation. It’s only a theory of course, but the logic checks out.

- Admiral Piett

Read the full log on Ao3.